My Beginning After The End: One Shots

◇─◇──◇─◇ 𝕾𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖗 𝖁𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖑 ◇─◇──◇─◇

And we are back once more with another One Shot, which I may actually try to create an actual story with since I have quite a few ideas. Anyhow as usual please roast the ever living shit out of me if you find any grammar mistakes, and uh.. yeah. Please vote.. and comment.. I like reading comments... no matter how degrading or sexual they are.

Also massive spoilers from the Orginal Fanfic. (Please don't sue me Slowcky.)

ɿ̵̡̪̙͓̤̮̥̺̜͇͓̫̱̟̖̠͓̰̪̫͚̑̆̈́͌̽̐͆̍̐̑̈́̈́̾̄̊͌͊͊͗͘̕ͅɘ̸̧̨̨̤̘̠̬͍̲͔̺̺̪̼͔̩̥̭̤͈̠̫̥̀̃́͜͝͝ḇ̷̬̜̥͈̘̟̰̳̩̳̦̭̦̜̰̞̻̲̯̜̍̈̀̅̊̈́̊̆̍̌̊́̔͗̃̕͠ͅͅɒ̷̧̛͍̗̖̈͌͑̑̏̀̑̊̈́̀̆ͅɘ̸̢̛̖̳̙̻̹̥̠͚̲̘̪͍̭̺̰͎͓͍̫̺̠̳̇̉̆̈́͆͑͐̃̂̽͂̉͂̓̔̂̈́̕͘͜͝͝ͅЯ̴̢̧̢̘̬͖̙̱̠̜̱̰̳̰̣͂͛͊̑̊̈́ͅ

What is happening? I feel like I am floating. At one moment, I felt like the smallest, most insignificant thing in the vast universe, yet at the same time, I felt as if I was everything, connected to every single structure all at once. The sensation was overwhelming, but I also felt strangely weak, as if my soul were subdued by something greater.

I wanted to scream, yet I had no mouth; I wanted to cry, yet I had no eyes. My senses seemed to sharpen to their maximum as a desperate attempt to survive whatever phenomenon had befallen me. I saw-or perhaps my mind imagined-a deep, dark void. There was no light or sound, just darkness, as if my metaphysical form had been dropped into the middle of the Boötes Void.

I remember drifting, trying to do something-anything. I curled my toes, prayed to a bunch of gods, but it seemed they deemed me unworthy of their presence. It was just me, nothing more, nothing less-just plain old me. Is this death? I guess heaven or hell don't exist then. I have no body, so is this my soul? Or am I in a coma?

I felt my mind strain, how long had I been here? It felt like days, it felt like forever. I needed to do anything, I needed to feel. I have always been a curious individual, seeking knowledge of what I could find, and as I felt my mind slowly shatter I could only think of the psychological torture that was dubbed White Room.

I always believed I could survive such a thing easily, but this is very reminiscent of it. My senses once sharpened now became dull, there was no smell, taste, sight, noise, or touch. I needed to feel, I could already feel the cracks in my sanity. All it reminded me was how I needed to get out of here, but how?

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'1.' The counting of numbers was to keep track, to keep focus.

'438.' to distract from paranoia, to ignore fear.

'2964.' A momentary distraction to prevent the brain from collapsing. ᴎ̵i̴ɒ̵ɿ̴d̶ ̴o̴ᴎ̷ ̵b̵ɒ̷ʜ̴ ̴ɘ̵H̴

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'69 417.' I could see the light! It was so close!

'69 418.' Almost there! Push my beautiful self!

'69 419.' YES! THAT'S IT!

'69 420.' Nice.